


Ad Infinitum

by TheProfessor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Relationship If You Could Call It That, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProfessor/pseuds/TheProfessor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Their relationship had been strictly professional, at the beginning. But these things always are."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ad Infinitum

**Author's Note:**

> Who knows what goes on in my head. From Seb's point of view.
> 
> My headcanon for Sebastian is Michael Fassbender, just so you know.

He and Jim rarely engaged in any physical contact.

Jim wasn't the touchy feely type, he learned that at the start. No touching Jim's things, definitely not his clothes, or the people he likes to call 'his'.

Their relationship had been strictly professional, at the beginning. But these things always are.

Three months into his contract, Jim texted him, demanding that Sebastian show up at this address at this time. He brought his equipment in case there was a job that needed to be done, someone that needed to be killed.

The place was a small, unadorned flat. He was sure this wasn't where Jim actually lived or spent any of his time, but he had no more than a few seconds to observe his surroundings before Jim marched up to him in his three piece suit, pulled him down by his collar, and smashed their lips together in a bruising kiss.

He had almost pulled away, but the kiss was so beautifully harsh, so full of tongue and teeth and want, that he felt himself harden at the sudden contact. Jim's hands flew down to his zipper and he did nothing to stop the flurry of fingers pulling at his trousers.

He had never wanted sex with a man before, but Jim's mouth around his cock made a very convincing argument. He groaned, how did Jim know to use his teeth like that, and picked the shorter man completely off the floor, letting Jim wrap his legs around his waist. He kissed Jim's lips with all the bruising roughness from before and Jim ground his hard, clothed cock against Sebastian's. He groaned into Jim's mouth.

Jim vaguely waved a hand behind them and he carried them into the bedroom, throwing Jim down and stripping him of his clothes as fast as his fingers would move. The naked body squirming beneath him held none of the innocence that he expected to find and he shucked his own clothing off, tossing it to the floor and climbing onto the bed.

The first real sound he heard from his partner's mouth was the groan that came from grinding their erections together. He bit at his boss's neck, almost hard enough to draw blood, and was rewarded with another sound of approval. He grasped their cocks in one hand and began to stroke, the nails digging into his back letting him know what a fine job he was doing.

Jim panted and moaned, pointing at the side table near his employee's free hand. He fished a hand into the drawer and came up with condoms, vaguely remembering that such a thing was important for a man having sex with another man. He tore the foil packet with his teeth, watching Jim move a hand down between his own legs. He noticed the end of an object and Jim pulled it from his body, revealing the dildo he had used to prepare himself. Sneaky bastard.

He rolled the condom on and bit down on hard on Jim's nipple, a gasp reaching his ears as he tilted hips up and pressed into Jim's body.

It was different than a woman, that was certain. Not at all bad, just different. Jim growled when he didn't move immediately. He responded by pulling out almost completely and slamming back into him. Jim braced both hands against the headboard, moaning in a way that he could only describe as whorish. Even women didn't make the noises that Jim did.

He bit Jim's collarbone, his neck, his chest, and pushed his nails into every inch of exposed skin that Jim had to offer. He was surprised to find that he loved it, loved leaving marks on this other man's skin. Jim arched his body up into the thrusts, pressing closer and closer. He finally reached down to stroke his boss's erection, earning a cry of pleasure for his efforts.

It wasn't long before Jim came, painting his torso with stripes of white. He released Jim's fading erection and pulled his body closer, thrusting harshly until he came moments later, stars behind his eyes.

They panted together, hearts slowing, and he pulled himself from Jim's body. He tied off the condom and tossed it into the nearby trashcan, flopping down next to his boss on the bed. Jim said nothing, so neither did he.

Minutes ticked by. He vaguely registered the thought that he'd just fucked the most dangerous man in London, possibly in the world. The throbbing from the scratches on his back dulled. He stared at the ceiling.

Without realizing it, he began to replay the scene in his head. The thrusts, the bites, the moans. There was something inherently different about fucking Jim, he decided, but he had no idea what it was.

As if given a cue, Jim rolled from his back onto his partner, straddling his hips. Jim looked at him now, really looked at him, and he could see Jim's eyes shining with mischief and lust. Jim coaxed him back to a full erection and they fucked again, Jim riding his cock with wild abandon. He barely lasted as long as before, watching the admittedly pleasant view.

After, they slept.

xxxxxxxxxx

He woke several hours later to find Jim gone. The only proof he'd been there was two tied off condoms in the trash can. There were no notes or messages on his phone. His boss had simply vanished.

The thought occurred to him, as he got dressed, that maybe Jim was planning to kill him. He dismissed it quickly, deciding that even James Moriarty wasn't that fickle, to kill his employee because he thought they had a bad round of sex. He shrugged it off and left the flat in much the same state as he entered, but perhaps a bit more relaxed.

xxxxxxxxxx

The second time Jim texted him, three and a half months later, they fucked like dogs on the living room floor. Jim left half moons on his thighs, nail marks from pulling him in closer. The carpet burn was like a medal of honor, proof that he had successfully navigated this ground full of land mines. He wasn't awake when Jim left.

xxxxxxxxxx

It continued for months, this game Jim played. He was like a bitch in heat, completely insatiable when he wanted it. He wasn't sure if it was because Jim trusted him, or because he was attractive and looked like a good fuck. Either way, he wasn't complaining.

He had a few women, in between his meetings with Jim. But none of them fucked the same, with the unembarrassed vigor that he did. He decided that was the difference; Jim enjoyed the pain and he was enough of an asshole to love inflicting it.

He found himself looking for women less often, jerking off to thoughts of Jim riding him instead. The trysts were regular, every three to four months, and he began to crave them. Crave Jim's heat around his cock, the bites and blood he always drew. It was like a drug.

He would never send the message first. Jim had to call for him. It was their unspoken rule.

Jim texted more often when he was in the middle of a bout with the man he called Sherlock. More bruises, more bites, more come.

He remembered the very last time Jim texted him. They fucked harshly, as always, but Jim kissed him goodbye. He picked up his clothes and left, the first and last time he would ever see Jim physically go from this flat.

Three days later, Jim had a bullet in his brain.

He blamed Sherlock Holmes, of course. His boss, the object of his barely contained lust, was dead now. There would be no more Jim, no more sex, no more unspoken trust between them.

It was at that moment he realized that, in a twisted sort of a way, he had loved Jim.

And that told him exactly what he needed to do.

He packed up his guns and set off for the flat. A new crime leader was needed. He wasn't intelligent enough to conduct the world's orchestra like Jim had. But London he could do.


End file.
